"Bread and water can so easily be toast and tea"
- Tea box in Jahlia's cupboard
So much has happened since my last check in. I have a feeling that every entry could easily start with that sentence, though to our credit Internet access has been limited (but we're grateful for that too).
After a warm send off from our West County cohorts we packed and tidied the house one last time, managed to get two hrs of sleep and were up before sunrise to catch the 4:30 am airport shuttle. This is the point in our story where I started to feel that something was really happening, I mean, subletters are moving in and we are moving out and won't be back until August.
Two sunrises, a chicken salad, one bag of pretzels, a banana, one cramped leg, a kinked neck, and two complementary hand towels later, it's time for continental breakfast 30,000 ft. above Ireland and one hour till landing.
Somehow in our daze we made our way towards my friends Jahlia and David's flat on the upper east side of London. We followed their instructions left behind on our cozy bed and slept for most of the day. By the time they returned from work we were refreshed and ready for our first ever round of "quiz night at the pub, very British".
We proceeded to watch in awe as our new friend and team leader Elliot blazed through round after round of questions with the competitive spirit of an Olympian. We chimed in when we could with answers like, "Avatar, and Tony Blair" but being generally out of the loop of U.S. pop culture and even less tapped into Brittan's, (I should just speak for my self here…) I wasn't much help. We were both impressed by the amount of work the MC had put into all the questions, many involving sound clips, not to mention the photo round. We were equally impressed by the fervor with which teams gathered and worked to win. (Winning team takes home the pot by the way.) In the end, we went home with a box of chocolates for "best team name" which will remain omitted from this entry; I'll only say that Elliot was sure he, "understands the inner workings of our judge's mind", and indeed he did.
The following day we walk around small streets and some big ones too exploring nooks and crannies, taking it all in through our jet lagged daze. Then we packed our bare essentials; our sense of humor and our sense of wonder and made it through London's rush hour to our bus station heading towards our first farm. On the bus we watched from the window as cafés and apartments transformed into small houses with cars parked out front, then larger houses with garages slowly opened up into fields, an enormous quilt of green wheat and yellow mustard all around us. Soon the houses were few and far between and stone church steeples were peeking through thick hedgerows. We were heading northwest to Cheshire (as in Cat). It's almost as if we've gone back in time because sprig is just springing in the UK, I feel so lucky to have two springs in one year. 5hrs and one short train ride later we were met at the station by Pam our first wwoof host.
We knew right away from her warm smile that we were in good hands. Pam is in her early 60's, tall, thin, and very strong. Back at the ranch she introduced us to her very sweet sister C (for Celia) who spends half of each month in London and the other half running back and forth between the garden and the kitchen at Yarangal Green Farm making Yarengal Family Jam. They're both artists, and needless to say, full of vigor.
Their family has lived on the property for two generations. The oldest part of the farmhouse dates back to the 1,500's, with beautiful thick wooden beams running across the low sealing in what is now the living room but was once a traditional Welsh longhouse. "Bits and pieces" have been added on throughout the years (including the 1970's kitchen wallpaper) transforming the house into a living historical document. We spent the next four days "mucking about" their place, fixing a gate, weeding the onion bed, building a few steps, mulching, and making Damson jam. In the evenings we would all get together for a traditional British starch-filled supper and talk about art, politics, and mostly the environment. Their farm was on the Sandstone Trail and they run a small B&B where they host "walkers" over night. We had a chance to explore a little and walked through their "woodlnd" (a nature preserve they're restoring with a government grant) for a view of the Welsh hills. Except for the cold nights we were lucky to have "lovely weather", but before we know it, it was time to head off to The Hatch in Tenbury Wells, Worcestershire (as in sauce).
We recognized Ben straight away from the photo of him we saw on The Hatch web site; strawberry Blond hair, huge blue eyes and big smile. We hopped into his very yellow van, pushed aside some baby toys, children's books and a guitar to make room for our bags and were off to the Pub for a gig. In this band (one of many he's a part of) Ben plays rhythm guitar backing up a 22 year-old Django-like virtuoso, "Brilliant!" Ben is also a drummer and a painter, a real Renaissance man much like the one I'm traveling with. In the van we wolfed down generous portions of a delicious onion quiche still warm from the oven which Ben's wife Nada had made- our first clue that she, like Ben, was a total Rock Star. After the wonderful show in the very-old Pub where they brew their own beers called, "This", "That", and "T'other" we were off to The Hatch where the lights were all out and it was way past bedtime. We crawled into our lovely warm bed in our spacious room at the top of the stairs and were off to dream land feeling right at home though we'd just arrived.
In the morning (bright and early) redheaded and rosy-cheeked 3-year-old Romy rousted us out of bed eager to make new friends. And so began our time at The Hatch…..
http://www.thehatchworkshop.co.uk/Welcome.html
